Is That Love Enough
by mamabee
Summary: Post The Final Problem - I fixed the code problem (thanks for letting me know) - 9 chapters and counting - I keep thinking of things to add. This is how I envision the relationship between Molly and Sherlock - how they resolve the awkwardness and how they move forward
1. Chapter 1

Molly gently laid the phone on the counter. She had suspected there was something more behind Sherlock's phone call but now Mycroft had confirmed it. She had never hoped that the "I love you" was real but she wasn't about to allow herself to be the only person humiliated. After all she had been through lately – Mary's death, Sherlock's brutish behavior, and Rosie – who although adorable and beautiful was a reminder of something that Molly had given up hoping for – a child of her own. Eventually he would call or show up at the lab. He wouldn't come to her flat, that would be too intimate, too personal. No, Sherlock will let an obnoxiously long amount of time to pass and then show up at the lab as if nothing ever happened. At least on that she could count on. He would allow her time to heal her pride. It was late and although she was glad Mycroft called her she really did just want to return to bed. She shuffled out of the kitchen and back to her bedroom, pouring herself under the layers of warm quilts – mostly handmade, and buried her face in her pillow. She just wanted the world to go away. She couldn't even cry any longer. There were no tears left. She felt hollow and empty and so painfully alone she thought she might break. It didn't take long for the abyss of sleep to take over.

At first she thought she imagined the sound, but then it became louder and more urgent. A knocking on the door and a voice. Was it a voice? Somebody hollering in the hallway maybe. A neighbor? And then again the knock and she realized it was her door. What time was it? She grabbed her clock and saw that it was 4am. Three hours since she had talked with Mycroft. Who could possibly be at her door? She grabbed her soft, cotton robe off the back of the door and wrapped it loosely around her waist. She looked through the peephole only to discover Sherlock standing outside the door. What was he doing here? Surely he didn't think they were going to talk about the phone call? Now? Here? He was chewing on his bottom lip and shifting his weight between his feet with a nervous energy that was bubbling out of every pore. "Molly! Open the bloody door! C'mon now!"

What the hell was he doing? He was going to wake up all the neighbors. She flung the door open, grabbed him by his coat sleeve and quickly pulled him inside her flat before he could utter another word. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" She hadn't anticipated being so blunt, but she really could not handle being embarrassed twice in one day. Sherlock didn't hesitate once inside he instantly headed for the kitchen and started flinging open cabinets and tossing things on the counter. He walked across the kitchen into the hallway and started pulling pictures off the wall and finally the smoke alarm from the ceiling until his hand was filled with four small tiny black cameras. "HA!" he handed them to her so proud of his accomplishment. She looked at the cameras and then at his face and said, "Seriously?! This couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"Well, technically it is tomorrow and surely you didn't want cameras in your flat?"

"Well no, but its not like I do anything fascinating in my kitchen."

"Yes. Well. I thought it best we deal with the matter right away."

"Molly crossed her arms and refusing to look away said, "you mean the cameras or the phone call?" All the normal confidence and bravado that fills Sherlock and propels him through his day left him in that one instant. His shoulders dropped, his eyes found the floor and silence washed over them. Molly had no intention of saving him from the uncomfortableness that he was standing in.

"Molly, I am very sorry."

The anger that was resting just below the surface bubbled to the top and Molly was no longer capable of containing it. "Yes. I'm sure you are. You can leave now. And you should probably find a new pathologist."

Sherlock didn't hesitate, he stepped forward quickly and grabbed both of Molly's hands. "No! I don't want another pathologist! I want you!" Molly's eyes flashed up to meet his. "No. that isn't what I met. I mean, yes it is what I meant. Oh bloody hell would you sit down please?" And he led Molly to her soft pale green couch and gently pushed her down. Sherlock didn't join her – instead he paced. She realized this was going to be a one-sided conversation so she sat there and listened. "Molly, I of course have always known that you have had feelings for me. The truth is few people didn't know. However, I've always tried to respect those feelings and not take advantage," Molly couldn't help a quick snort and roll of her eyes to indicate that she didn't exactly agree with this last part. Sherlock paused at her disapproval and took a long, steadying breath. "Molly, I've never been good at personal relationships. You know this. But I have grown fond of you over the years. You're smarter than most average people and you are incredibly dependable." If he thought these things were statements of romance Molly was thinking that he wandered far off base. Sherlock could tell that he was making little progress. He determined a different tactic was needed. He took two long strides, and before Molly could react he was sitting next to her with his hands holding hers. "I do love you Molly. I do." Her heart caught in her throat and her pulse accelerated. "Its just that I am not actually capable of loving you the way you deserve. You deserve a man who will spend a Saturday afternoon gazing lovingly into your eyes. You deserve a man who will remember your birthday and will take you to dinners. Molly, I will go two weeks before I would ever realize that we hadn't spoken. I could go six months and never take you out to dinner. Molly, no woman deserves me which is why I've always been single. Molly's heart settled back into the dark dungeon in which it had been languishing for months. The silence stretched and when Sherlock finally spoke his voice was small – smaller than Molly had ever heard it. "I am so sorry I hurt you my darling. Please Molly. Please don't shut me out. Please don't walk away from me." He squeezed her hands tight but couldn't even look at her face.

She sat there staring at those dark curls atop his head, wanting desperately to nuzzle her face into them and breathe him in. She believed him. She believed that he loved her as much as he was capable. He looked up at her and she could see how tired he was. The adrenaline of the game, the excitement and fear of the evening fading quickly. She stood up from the couch and held out her hand. "C'mon. You need to go to bed." Sherlock looked up at her confused. She gently pulled him along and nudged him into her bedroom. He stood there silent as she took off his coat and waited for him to hand her his scarf. She laid both items gently on the overstuffed chair in the corner of her cozy bedroom. She signaled for him to take off his shoes as she straightened up the bed covers and fluffed the pillows. "Go on, get into bed. We'll talk more about this tomorrow." Sherlock silently obeyed and slid under the homemade quilts and was enveloped by the smell of Molly and the feeling of being accepted and perhaps even loved. Molly grabbed some clean clothes and slipped into her bathroom. No point in going back to sleep now. The sun was starting to crack over the horizon and it was going to be a long day.

 _Author's Note: Thanks to all of you who sent me notes about the code showing up in my story. Not sure what happened there. I already have a second chapter written so "follow" the story for more chapters to come._


	2. Chapter 2

The sun seemed brighter today as if the small rain from the night before had scrubbed London clean. Molly let the sun warm her face and her spirits seemed to soar. Things seemed better today – manageable. She doesn't feel as alone as she felt yesterday. She has John and Rosie and Mrs. Hudson and even Sherlock. The day at the lab seemed to fly by. Nothing exciting, just two overdoses, a strangulation and what she thought was an unexpected stroke. She didn't know if Sherlock would be at her flat when she got home but it didn't matter. For the time being things felt normal and she was going to enjoy this for as long as it lasted. Molly opened the door to her flat to find it quiet. He must have left.

She dropped her bags on the couch and walked back into her bedroom only to discover Sherlock in the same spot she had left him. He was still in his clothes, rumpled, with his mouth hanging open. Molly smiled at how vulnerable he appeared in that moment, and that she was one of very few people to see him like that. She slowly retreated out of her bedroom and back into her kitchen. She opened the fridge and realized it looked like a single woman lived here. A couple of oranges, a half-drunk bottle of wine, three bottles of beer and some yogurt. She decided on take out. After placing the order, she kicked off her shoes, pulled the hair clip out of her hair and plopped on the couch, turned on the telly and was content with the knowledge that she wasn't alone tonight. Twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door and the smell of green curry met her nostrils when she opened it. She paid the delivery guy and gave him a generous tip. She wanted to share the good feelings that had been following her all day. When she turned around Sherlock was standing by the kitchen – cheeks flushed with sleep, hair a mess, grey dress shirt untucked and wrinkled, black dress pants in the same condition and his stocking feet sticking out the bottom.

Molly held up the bag of take out, "Curry?" Sherlock nodded and hummed in agreement. They walked back to the kitchen. Sherlock pulled out two beers from the fridge and Molly grabbed a couple of forks. She had ordered extra in case Sherlock might wake up hungry so she handed him one white box and she grabbed the other. She grabbed the beer and headed back to the couch. She tucked her feet up under her and sat on one end of the couch. Sherlock followed suit and sat at the other end of the couch with his feet propped up on the wood coffee table in front of him. They ate in silence for several minutes until Sherlock finally asked, "What the hell are we watching?"

Molly swallowed hard and smirked, "It's Alaska Bushmen. These guys are like country people who live off the grid." Sherlock stared sideways at Molly, eyebrows arched in a silent question. Molly continued, "Well most television shows are crime dramas and I get most of that at work and the shows are rather stupid anyways. I don't know, the show is mindless and these guys are so goofy." They returned to the silence and Molly was thinking how perfectly perfect the moment was and how she wished it would never end. The Alaskan Bush people hunted and fished and had missing teeth. Their arguments ranged from the best way to herd cattle to the best way to woo a woman. The conversations were inane and the people themselves were filthy and ignorant. Sherlock and Molly watched in silence until their take out boxes and bottles were empty. Sherlock leaned back against the couch and said, "So, I have a sister."

Molly took the cue, and turned the volume down on the television and turned to face Sherlock. "I suppose that's kind of an exciting thing to discover." Always the optimist.

"Molly, she killed at least five people in cold blood and threatened to kill you. She's a psychopath."

Molly shrugged her shoulders, "My mother was an alcoholic. Every family has one. It's normal."

Sherlock smiled. A warm genuine smile that made Molly smile back. "I really think you need to consider increasing your standard for 'normal'"

Molly giggled and looking up through her eyelashes said, "you mean, like being in love with a high-functioning sociopath?" Sherlock stretched and groaned, rubbing his hands through his hair. He looked at Molly with her long hair softly draped down her back. He thought about the amazing night sleep the night before and the quiet pleasant evening on the couch. Part of him wanted to sweep her hair to one side and begin kissing her neck. Another part of him knew that the best thing to do was to leave and return to life – his life – the one he would have to face eventually. And in that life there was no room for quiet evenings or being cozy on the couch.

"Sherlock I'm sorry about your sister. And Viktor, your friend. It does sort of explain why relationships have always been hard for you."

Sherlock turned to face Molly, his arm stretched long across the back of the couch, "He was my friend. My best friend and she killed him – a child. What does that say about my family? What does that say about me?"

Molly scooted closer to Sherlock on the couch with her arm stretched along the back of the couch, her fingers barely touching his, "It says what it has always said about you – you have a brilliant mind, and you come from a brilliant family." Molly scooted a little closer, "but it also tells you that once – a long time ago you loved somebody. And somebody loved you so much she was willing to kill in order to have you return that love. It is actually kind of beautiful."

Sherlock smiled, "Seriously Molly, what happened to you that makes you think there is anything beautiful about this situation?"

"I spend my entire day in a lab with dead people. I think my idea of 'normal' was skewed long before you ever came around"

Sherlock sighed. He grabbed Molly's hand and squeezed, "I need to get back to John and the flat. I can't stay here. "

Molly squeezed his hand back, "I know. Thank you for one of the nicest evenings I've had in a long time." She could feel the hesitation, as if there were words he was leaving unsaid. She thought she would get lost in those blue eyes, in that ambivalent smile. He jumped off the couch, slipped on his shoes, grabbed his coat and was out the door without another word.

Molly knew that whatever moment they were having would never happen again.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks had gone by since Molly had seen or heard from Sherlock. She wasn't surprised by this. She assumed he would turn up when he needed something. She had just sat down at her desk for lunch, a small salad and some fresh fruit, when a clerk walked in carrying a small square package.

"Dr. Hooper? This package was just delivered for you."

Molly swallowed hard and stood up, wiping her hands on her lab coat. She took the box and stared at the label reading out loud, "Bailey's Bath". She didn't remember ordering anything. She opened the box to find a beautiful wood box with a cream colored card on top. She slipped the small plain card out of the envelope and read the message,

"The smell of Formaldehyde is hard to get rid of. Try vanilla. SH"

She opened the box to find a collection of bath soaps, body lotion and shampoo – all vanilla scented. The labels were ornate and beautiful and she could tell the collection was expensive. Even though nobody was there to see, Molly blushed. The thought of Sherlock picking out soap for her was a visual image she couldn't begin to understand.

Two weeks later Molly was quietly running her third toxicology report when the lab doors burst open and in walked Sherlock and John Watson. Sherlock's coat billowing behind him and John's jaw set tight in determination. Molly flushed a little at the sight of Sherlock. He didn't hesitate to state his purpose as he walked across the lab, "Do you have a body with pine needles stuck in their finger tips? A woman, white, maybe 30?" Molly stood quiet for a second processing what he was saying and trying to control her blushing. She took a quick breath and turned away, pointing towards a slab at the end of the lab, "Um, yes, I think so. Last slab at the end." Sherlock turned and walked in the direction indicated.

But John didn't move. What happened? Sherlock had disappeared for almost two days after the night with Eurus and he had always assumed Sherlock had gone on a bender but now he wasn't so sure. What was he sensing between Sherlock and Molly? Why was she blushing? What was that look between them?

Molly skipped walk behind Sherlock trying to keep up with his long stride. "She came in last night. I haven't had a chance to examine her outside of a cursory look over. She looked like an overdose. Why do you need her?" At this point Molly had pulled up next to Sherlock on the side of the slab, standing near his elbow as he examined the woman's fingers. Sherlock didn't answer as he took tweezers and began to pull out what appeared to be pine needles from under her finger nails. He was delicately placing them on a clean piece of gauze he had grabbed off a nearby table. He muttered to himself and Molly didn't quite hear him. "What? Did you need something?" He didn't stop what he was doing but gently cleared his throat and repeated, "Vanilla. I smell vanilla." Molly blushed all over again. "Um yes. I um, yes. Thank you." She turned and walked back to her microscope trying to ignore John's gaze.

John however had not missed a thing. Something was going on and it had nothing to do with pine needles or the dead body. He slowly walked over to Molly and watched her as she tried to pretend to look at something and make notes. "Molly?" She couldn't look at him. He would know instantly by looking at her. "Yes John?" She kept staring into her microscope. "Molly what is going on with you two? And don't say nothing because you have been blushing since we arrived and I don't know what he just said to you but I think your toes are now pink."

Molly looked up and swallowed hard, "Nothing. I mean nothing really. I mean he apologized for the phone call. We're fine. It's good." And she nervously started straightening the lab table, which wasn't messy.

John shifted his weight and smiled, "Sherlock was gone for almost two days after Eurus. I thought he went on a bender. He didn't though did he? He was with you." John watched carefully to see her reaction and instantly knew he had hit the truth when her cheeks turned crimson all over again. John was shocked and angry on Molly's behalf. He pulled his hands through his hair, "bloody hell!" He slammed his fists on the table, "Did he sleep with you?" Molly shot her head up and met John's eyes and squeaked in shock. Sherlock, having finished collecting his sample of pine needles and having made his way back to the microscope table and in exasperated tones responded to John's question, "No John. Molly and I have not had sex. Now, can we get back to the dead woman in the room?" and he started preparing the needles for the microscope. Unable to handle any more embarrassment Molly scurried out of the lab. Sherlock looked at John accusingly, "See what you did?"

John was horrified, "What I did? What bloody hell have you been doing? Don't play with that girl Sherlock. Don't make her think you are even capable of loving her!" John was protective of Molly. She didn't really have anybody to look after her and so over the years he had grown to take on the role of big brother – specifically trying to protect her from Sherlock. He was angered by the idea that Sherlock had somehow given her hope of any sort of real relationship happening between them.

Sherlock let out a loud and exasperated sigh and turned to face John. "Since apparently we can't do any more work until I tell you all the ghastly gossip here it is. Yes, I went to Molly's flat and I slept. ALONE. And then we ate green curry, watched television and I left. Happy? Now can we talk about the dead woman?"

"You ate curry? You slept? And that is it. I'm to believe that you never once discussed the phone call or what was said?" – John was standing agape at Sherlock in utter disbelief.

Sherlock remains silent for a moment but John is not letting him turn away from this conversation. His glare intent and Sherlock recognized there would be no moving forward until he had given John the answers.

"Yes. I made things clear."

"You told her that you don't love her?"

Sherlock stared at his feet and with mumbled breath said, "sort of." And tried to return to his microscope. John was horrified. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He grabbed Sherlock firmly by the arm and jerked him away from the microscope, "What EXACTLY did you say to her?"

Sherlock sighed and with a quiet voice he said, "I love her as much as I can love anyone. And that is what I told her." He then returned to the microscope. John stood their dumbfounded. He no longer knew what to think of his friend.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been several weeks since the awkwardness in the lab. Molly was hoping that at some point she would get accustomed to seeing Sherlock without blushing like a tomato every single time. She had just walked into her flat after a very long week. She liked pathology because she rarely had to talk to people but this week seemed as if there had been a fire sale on coffins – her lab was full with bodies and detectives and everybody needing something. She was eager to settle into her couch. She kicked off her shoes, pulled off her jumper, tossing it on the ground, dropped her bags and walked lazily back to her bedroom. She pulled off her khakis, unbuttoned her shirt and tossed them in the corner as she walked into the bathroom. The cool tile felt good on her sore feet. She washed her face, pulled her hair up into a messy bun, and slipped on an oversized t-shirt that said, "I See Dead People" in worn out red letters. She walked back to the couch, grabbing the take out menu from the fridge and her phone from her purse on the way. She had just sat down when there was a knock on her door. She moaned loudly and debated whether or not to answer it. She was in no mood for somebody selling her something or preaching at her. But the knock came again, louder and more urgently. She pulled herself up and answered the door half-way when it was pushed open and in soared Sherlock, his coat behind him. She stumbled backwards startled. He held up a brown bag and said, "I brought chips. Hungry?" Molly nodded in stunned silence. She followed him in the kitchen as he grabbed plates and opened the fridge to grab two beer bottles. He turned around quickly to offer her one when he stared down at her naked legs that seemed to be exposed right up to where you could barely make out the pink lace of her boy-short knickers. Molly's face went crimson at the realization of what Sherlock was looking at and she self-consciously pulled on her shirt.

"I wasn't exactly expecting company. I will just.." and Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and handed her a beer. He tossed his coat on the back of the wooden kitchen chair, and started rummaging through the brown bag to get his dinner out. "Sherlock why are you here?"

He looked up surprised that the answer wasn't blatantly obvious, "This is what we do on Friday nights. We eat take out and watch bad tv." And he returned to his dinner pulling out a bag of chips and licking the grease off his fingers. Molly looked at him dumbfounded. "Sherlock it has been almost two months since we did that last time. This is hardly something we do EVERY Friday." He looked up at her innocently, "Yes. Well, I've been busy." And he grabbed his dinner and plopped on the couch as if his answer was satisfactory and no more discussion was required. Molly's feet and knees ached. The week had been long and she was exhausted. She really wasn't in the mood for his selfishness tonight. She grabbed her beer, her bag of chips and hobbled over to the couch. She groaned slightly as she sat down. Sherlock turned to watch her slowly maneuver herself onto the couch, grimacing at the bending of her knees. He hadn't realized two months had gone by since his last visit to her flat. She must have had a long week, her feet and knees hurt. He could tell by the slow way she moved. He wiped his hands on his pants, leaned back against the couch and patted his lap, "Go ahead. Put them up here."

Molly looked at him confused, "huh? Put what up there?"

Sherlock was exasperated. "Your feet! They hurt I can tell."

"Why do you want my feet?" Molly was really not understanding

"Pressure points. There are certain pressure points on your feet that help to relax tension and sore tendons. But you can't bloody well do it to yourself so put your feet up here."

Molly was still in her t-shirt and was feeling rather self-conscious about putting her very naked legs into Sherlock's lap. She shimmied the small white knitted blanket down from the back of the couch, covering her legs and then placed her feet in his lap as commanded.

He turned on the television to a show about the history of Russian monarchs which Molly found tediously boring. He pushed his thumb deep into Molly's heel and she instantly felt release of a pain that felt good. She put her beer down on the coffee table as he dragged his thumb up the center of her foot and pulled her toes back and forth stretching the tendons and releasing the pressure. She leaned her head back and inadvertently let out a small moan of pleasure and closed her eyes. It felt too good to do anything else but enjoy.

Sherlock had been rubbing her feet almost robotically – not really paying attention until that small moan came from her lips. It was unguarded, unplanned and awoke the very human male within him. He looked at Molly with her head tilted back against the arm of the couch. He let his hands wander up her calf muscles as he kneaded and pulled on them. Her skin was soft and smooth and he suddenly found himself thinking about those legs and what they led to.

Sherlock was being selfish and he knew it. He liked coming to Molly's flat because it was a place that allowed him to turn off his brain. It wasn't as good as heroin, but it was the best alternative he had found. He was admiring Molly's softness. Her gentle spirit. Her quiet nature and he realized those were the things he loved about her. He could turn his brain off at her flat because she rarely talked and rarely asked him for anything. And then she let out a soft snore.

He let her stay on the couch while he picked up from dinner. He turned the TV off and then gently shook her awake, "Molly? Darling? You've fallen asleep. Let's get you off to bed." Molly was dazed and very drowsy. He walked her back to her bedroom, turned down the covers and tucked her in. Leaving her with a kiss on her forehead. Molly instantly allowed her body to be consumed with sleep.

Her sleep was deep and without dreams until she felt something. Her bed was moving. She sat up alarmed to realize that somebody was in her queen-sized bed. She quickly turned on the light. Sherlock moaned and covered his eyes, "bloody hell Molly it is the middle of the night. Go back to sleep." Molly was dazed but she did as she was told. She turned the lights off and laid back down, her back towards Sherlock. He wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her close to him, wrapping his leg around the top of hers. "Thanks for letting me stay Mols. I know I can be an arse." Molly rolled over so she was facing him, "you visited Eurus this week didn't you?" Sherlock propped himself up on his elbow and looked at her amusingly. She wasn't a stupid girl. "Yes, I saw her Thursday."

Molly propped herself up on her elbow to mirror Sherlock. "What are you doing here Sherlock? Why are you in my bed?" Sherlock let out a sigh and rolled on his back. "Eurus is by far the smartest Holmes sibling. Mycroft is the most pragmatic. But I'm beginning to realize that I might be the most emotional." At this he rolled back on his side to face Molly, "When we are all together in that desolate prison – my parents, Mycroft and myself – and we are pretending to have some sense of normalcy as a family I'm reminded of how not normal we are. I'm reminded that our brilliance has left us lacking the one thing that brings meaning to any life. I don't want to end up like Eurus – insane and incapable of any sort of relationship, trapped in my own brain. I also don't want to end up like Mycroft so intent on the practical, reasonable and rational that I miss out on the unexpected things of this world. I've had a lot of women pursue me Molly – women who want to figure me out, or catch me like a prized animal. You've never treated me like a puzzle that needed solving or a victim that needed saving. When I'm here – in your flat – I really feel like a normal bloke, with a normal girl, doing normal things. And even for the fleeting moments that I'm here I can pretend that my other life and that other family doesn't exist."

It might have been the most honest and vulnerable Molly had ever seen Sherlock. He looked normal lying in her bed in a white undershirt and boxer shorts. He wasn't a man with a genius so advanced that no problem was past solving. Molly didn't think, she leaned over cupped Sherlock's face in her hands and kissed him. A slow, loving kiss that let him know that he would always be safe here – with her, in her flat. When she pulled back to look at Sherlock he looked at her with an intensity she hadn't seen in a long time. He hesitated for just a heart beat then returned the kiss with more heat and passion and rolled on top of Molly, intertwining their legs. Little was spoken until they both laid bare, sweaty and spent. Molly quietly drifted off to sleep, content that she was loved.

When she awoke the next morning she was alone. The bed was empty and the flat left no impression Sherlock had ever been there. She would have thought the whole thing was a dream except she was still naked and there was no sign of her knickers. She wiped her eyes and smelled the pillow where Sherlock had slept. She was about to roll out of bed when she heard her flat door open and a couple of minutes later Sherlock walked into the bedroom fully dressed holding a small brown bag and carrying take out thermal mug. He smiled when he saw her sitting up in bed. He walked over and placed the cup and bag by her nightstand. He then kissed her on the top of her head. "I got you a muffin and a cup of tea from downstairs. They looked marginally edible." Molly smiled up at her and felt a bit like a child who was getting rewarded for good behavior. "I've gotta go meet up with John. We're tracking down a couple of leads today." Molly smiled her understanding. She wanted him to stay, of course, and linger in bed with her but he had made it very clear that he was not that kind of guy and this relationship would not be like that. Instead she said nothing. He patted her cheek gently and then left the flat, leaving Molly naked and alone.


	5. Chapter 5

_(Thanks for being patient as I roll out these chapters. I think there is just one more left after this one. I'm working on it now. Should have it posted in the next day or so.)_

Molly had promised herself that if she and Sherlock ever slept together she would not be depressed after – and yet she couldn't help but break that promise. It had been lovely to spend the evening in his arms, feeling him so close to her, loving her in a way that she had only imagined, but as expected he had disappeared. It had only been two days but Molly knew it could be weeks or even months before she ever saw or heard from him again and as much as she hated it, the idea of him being gone for so long made her sad. The London skies had been grey and it matched Molly's mood. Not one to be chatty she had grown even more quiet and her usually sparkly smile was nowhere to be found. She sat in her lab, glad for the quiet companionship of her corpses and staring at the grey sky when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She picked it up to read the incoming text message. "busy with a case. Haven't forgotten. I'll bring Thai food next time." It wasn't the romantic message she had hoped for but it was enough to slightly brighten her mood. Molly needed to decide if Sherlock's love really would be enough for her – this plowing into her life only to leave again. Was she going to be okay with it? Was it enough? Did she deserve more?

Another week passed without a visit or a call. The London clouds also stuck around causing Molly to spend most days depressed and sullen. She was sitting at her desk in the lab picking at her lunch - a cold sandwich and a soda – when the desk clerk walked in with a package. "Dr. Hooper I have a delivery for you" Molly assumed it was more supplies and directed him to leave the box on the empty slab in the middle of the room. The day dragged on and Molly decided to leave early. She started shutting the lab down grateful for the quiet day. Just as she was about to leave, the lab doors burst open and in walked Sherlock and John with what looked like a homeless person in tow behind them.

Sherlock bellowed as he walked in, "Brilliant! You're still here!" Molly's face lit up and Sherlock beamed at her. The clouds of her mood dissipating quickly as the sun of Sherlock entered her atmosphere. Sherlock kept talking as he led this young man into the lab and sat him down on the middle slab pushing the package out of the way. "Molly, can you run some blood tests for us?" Molly gave a modest smile and nodded in agreement as she began to collect her tools. She walked over to the slab and began tying up the man's arm in order to extract the blood. "This is Edgar. Edgar has been lying to us and so we thought we would just find out some answers for ourselves." Sherlock was pacing around the room. John leaned against the slab and watched Molly work. He glanced at the package on the slab. It was small, about the size of a shoebox and the label was addressed to Molly from a place called "Lace and Things". John smirked, and handed Molly the package, "Um, 'Lace and Things'? I'm guessing this isn't for the lab. You might want to, um, put this somewhere." Molly grabbed the package and looked at the label – her face instantly flushed and she whipped her head up to look at Sherlock. John, curious, also looked at Sherlock who appeared to be oblivious to anything going on. She walked across the lab to her desk where she grabbed a box cutter and slit the brown parcel open. Laying on top of pale pink tissue paper was another cream colored note. She opened it up and read the card, "I liked the lace trim. Love, SH" –she delicately peeled back the tissue paper to see a set of six pairs of silk and lace trimmed knickers in a variety of colors. Molly squeaked out of embarrassment and quickly closed the box back up. John was fascinated. What could possibly be in the package? He hollered across, the lab, "Everything okay Molly?" That got Sherlock's attention who looked at Molly, spied the card in her hand and the parcel on her desk. Her flushed cheeks told the rest of the story.

John looked at Sherlock's face as the appearance of recognition swept over it. Sherlock had sent the parcel – he had sent Molly something from a store called "Lace and Things" – that could only mean one thing. Sherlock took a couple of strides to Molly's desk and delicately laid his hand on top of the parcel, keeping the box closed. In hushed tones he said, "perhaps you could open it later?" Molly just nervously nodded, not wanting to make eye contact out of fear that she might either cry or kiss him – she wasn't sure which one she wanted to do more. She returned to the slab and finished her work in silence. She could feel everybody's eyes on her and it was making her very uncomfortable. Sherlock, sensing her embarrassment struck up another line of inquiry with Edgar, asking him to repeat places he had been and people he had seen. Molly didn't pay attention. She drew the blood requested, and scurried to her computer and centrifuge to run the requested tests. John wandered over to her desk and delicately turned over the card and read the message – confirming his suspicions. Sherlock watched John out of the corner of his eye and concluded that there was no longer a reason to continue the ruse of hiding their relationship. Sherlock joined Molly by her computer and read over her shoulder.

His lips were by her ear as he read the results out loud for John to hear. Molly could feel his warm breath on her neck and it was like a drug. She could barely stay focused. She wasn't following the conversation and therefore didn't notice when it ended. Sherlock kissed her on the cheek, and briskly headed to the door yelling over his shoulder, "Thank you darling!"

As Sherlock, John and Edgar walked back to the car Sherlock said, "Go on John ask your question" but John just swallowed hard, set his jaw and said, "Nope. I have no questions." But the silence was heavy between them. They put Edgar back into the car and before Sherlock could get in the car John stepped in front of him blocking his path and holding fast to his arm. "I'm not going to ask you, but I just want to caution you. Be careful. She is a good girl Sherlock."

Sherlock allowed John to keep him there. "I'm trying John. I'm trying to be human." John nodded and got into the car. He and Sherlock sat in silence. John wasn't sure what to make of Sherlock and Molly.

After the doors swung closed and the boys had all left, Molly sat at her desk and properly opened the package. She admired the delicate pink tissue paper that had a subtle white floral pattern. She opened it up and there were the six pairs of silk boy-short knickers with contrasting lace trim. Red and pink, black and pink, Green and white – they were beautiful. Molly had never had anybody buy her a gift like this – so personal and intimate. She gently touched the silk and thought about that night. She thought about Sherlock picking these out, and she wondered what he thought about. She didn't want to admit it but her heart was beating so fast she thought it would burst out of her chest.


	6. Chapter 6

It was only a couple days later when Molly opened the door to see Sherlock standing at her door holding Thai food – as promised. This time though he walked into the flat, placed the food on the counter, quickly pivoted around and grabbed Molly by the waist, pressing her against the counter and kissing her passionately. Molly had to admit that it was rather romantic. He pulled back and slowly brushed her hair away from her face, keeping her pinned against the counter. He stared at her warmly, "I'm sorry it took me so long to come back." His voice was low and soothing and Molly didn't want to move a muscle. He kissed her sweetly one more time then moved away to grab two beers out of the fridge. She silently grabbed plates and they both headed for the couch. Sherlock took a couple of bites of his pad thai and turned to Molly, "How are the corpses?" Molly stopped mid-bite and stared at him, "You could care less about my job. Why are you asking?" Sherlock looked stunned, "I was trying to be considerate – John tells me that it is normal for people to ask." He then returned to staring at his pad thai, "but you are right, I'm not really interested." Molly giggled. She didn't need Sherlock to be somebody different than who he was. She appreciated the fact that they could sit in silence. She swallowed and said, "The corpses are fine. The normal variety of overdoses, murders, and suicides. Anything interesting that came long you would have known about, so nothing to discuss." She took a swig of her beer. "How about you? Want to talk about the case?" Sherlock smirked, "no." They both returned to their dinner.

After an extended silence Sherlock looked up, "Molly, I'm rubbish at this." Molly laughed. She never imagined that Sherlock would be the one feeling the most out of place and awkward. She wiped her face on a napkin. Set back on the couch, took a big breath and turned to face Sherlock. "I'm not a talker Sherlock. I spend my days with dead people. I like the silence. I don't need you to swoon over me or send me dozens of roses. I don't need you to come home every night at 6:00 and listen to me drone on about lab work." Sherlock looked relieved and leaned against the couch as if he could finally relax. Molly took a deep breath and continued, "I don't want you to change. What I do want is for you to show me the same respect, honor and dependability I have shown you. If I need you I need to know you are there for me." Sherlock grew serious and said firmly, "Always. Molly I could never repay you for all the times you have been there for me. I…I count on that and the whole reason we're even here is because I would have said or done anything to protect you." Molly's eyes glistened with such a profound declaration. Molly smiled and then added firmly, "Also, no other women. I don't share." Sherlock smirked at the sight of the toughness that he knew bubbled just beneath the surface. "No worries."

They spent the evening watching "The Bachelor" while Sherlock deduced every candidate and making his predictions on who he would choose, why and whether they would last. Molly wasn't really listening. She had spent the night curled up in the crook of his arm and the sound of his heart beating and the reverberation of his voice booming through his chest was enough to make Molly feel content, like a cat who had drunk too much milk.

She still had her work clothes on and decided she had grown uncomfortable in them. She silently got up and walked into her bedroom. She pulled out the parcel from her closet, folded back the pink tissue paper and grabbed the pink and black pair of knickers. She slipped them on and picked out a form fitting pink tank camisole to wear with it. She brushed out her hair and gave it the "sniff-test" to see if she still smelled like the lab. She liberally sprayed perfume just in case.

She walked back to the den where Sherlock was stretched on the couch, his feet on the coffee table and his arms locked behind his head. She walked directly up to the couch standing between he and the tv and straddled him on the couch – making her intentions known. Sherlock didn't hesitate, he wrapped his long arms around her, pulling her neck down so he could firmly kiss her. Molly pulled her hands through his curly hair, burying her face in his neck taking in the smell. Sherlock's hands rested firmly on the satin and lace knickers that he had picked out. The heat between them was growing and Molly was starting to become impatient with being on the couch. Suddenly Sherlock pulled away, gently stroking her long hair and looking into her sweet blue eyes. "I love you Molly." This time she knew he meant it – she knew he was saying it for all the right reasons. She beamed at him and said, "I love you too."

 _Author's Note: I don't write fictions often. Frequently when I do it is because a show has left me yearning for the story to be told in a specific way. I obsess over it until I get the story down and then it feels like I can move on. I've expelled the story from my brain. So now I've done it with Sherlock. I feel better. I can now resume my normal life. Thank you for reading._


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: Remember how I said there would only be 6 chapters? Well, I ended up having more to say. Probably two more additional chapters after this one._

Sherlock stayed this time. In contrast to his previous promises he did languish in bed with Molly. Most couples would take the time to talk and share stories but neither of them had lives that they wanted to talk about. Sherlock knew of Molly's broken past and she of his. It was best for them to focus on the present moment. Eventually though the real world called – for Sherlock it was John and for Molly it was work. Once the overcoat went back on Molly could see Sherlock retreat behind his armor. She didn't even suggest they leave together. She sent him on his way and she lingered in her flat a bit longer to take in the last moments of their time together.

A couple of days later John asked if she would be willing to watch Rosie during the late afternoon and evening as he and Sherlock worked a case. It had been so long since she had watched Rosie that her arms ached to hold the tiniest Watson. She agreed and they made plans to meet at Sherlock's flat for the turn over. Molly hadn't been to Sherlock's flat in ages and she wasn't sure how that was going to feel or if Sherlock had said anything more to John about their relationship.

The sun had been shining for days in London an anomaly that Molly attributed to her being in love. She was wearing a white button down shirt and a bright yellow cardigan. She felt like her own ray of sunshine as she bounced up the stairs of 221B. Before reaching the door knob she heard Sherlock bellow, "COME IN!" She entered the flat to see Sherlock standing by the fireplace, his forehead resting on his fingertips. He barely looked up and hollered, "MOLLY! THE GAMES IS ON! GO AWAY!" and then returned to his thought. For just a moment Molly was hurt, but then she saw John and Rosie turn the corner from the kitchen and she bolstered herself and shouted back, "DON'T BE AN ARSE SHERLOCK! I'm not here for you, I'm here for Rosie." And with that she reached out to grab the darling baby girl wrapped in a pink blanket and held her tenderly, cooing and smiling at her. Sherlock looked up stunned to be yelled at in such a manner. He didn't think he had done anything to deserve such a scolding. In the meantime, John rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Just ignore him Molly. I'll follow you out so I can put the car seat in your car."

John and Molly walked down the stairs leaving Sherlock to his thoughts. John installed the car seat in Molly's car and after Rosie was securely tucked in he turned to Molly, "Don't let him bother you." She smiled sheepishly. Molly was tough but she wasn't impervious to Sherlock's stings. John shifted on his feet as if he was preparing a speech and then finally met Molly's eyes, squinting in the sunlight, "I was there during the phone call." Molly had already known that and so she wasn't sure where John was going with this conversation. "It broke him Molly. We had already gone through so much that day but when he realized how badly he had hurt you – that perhaps his one chance of having somebody love him was gone. It broke him." Molly stood silent. She wasn't sure what to do with this new information. John continued, "Listen, I don't' know how much Sherlock is even capable of loving a person. But I do know that he's trying. I know that the reason why he has kept you at arm's length for so long was because he didn't want to hurt you. He didn't want to share his damage with you, but after that phone call I think he just felt like the worst had already been done. Plus, he's changing Molly and you are part of that change. Don't give up on him." Molly nodded, "Thanks John. I appreciate that." She gave him a small kiss on the cheek and got into her car.

She wasn't going to let Sherlock's nasty mood rain on her parade. The sun was glorious, Rosie was adorable and they were going to head to the park for some swing time and then back to her flat for dinner and naps. She had just parked the car and was getting the stroller out of the car when her phone vibrated. She dropped the stroller and dug in her bag for her phone, "I know I can be an arse sometimes". Molly chose to ignore the text. No point in responding. She got the stroller unfolded and got Rosie out of the car seat and nestled into the contraption. It was just a short walk from her flat to the park around the block. Her phone vibrated again as they took off towards the park, "John says I should apologize. Not sure why." Molly snorted and rolled her eyes. She just wished he would shut up now, she placed her phone on silent and dumped it into her bag and put her bag at the bottom of the stroller. He wasn't the only one who knew how to vanish.

Sherlock was annoyed. He was working. He was busy. She just couldn't barge into his workspace and expect him to be happy to see her. Surely she understood that. And why wasn't she responding to his texts? This is why he didn't do sentiment and relationships. People were stupid and acted stupid and expected stupid things. But she was radiating when she walked into his flat – he had noticed that.

Molly and Rosie spent far too much time at the park. The sun was just starting to set as they made their way back home. The fresh air had made Molly sleepy and she was sure Rosie felt the same. She folded up the pram and put it in the trunk of her car. Held Rosie tight with her diaper bag over her shoulder and started walking up the stairs to her flat. She was about to walk-in when she noticed the gouge marks in the wood by the lock. Somebody had broken into her apartment. She didn't know if they were still there or not but she wasn't going to go in and find out. Her heart started racing. She quickly turned around and ran down the stairs. She could hear footsteps behind her. She quickly put Rosie in her car seat, not tightening her up near enough, tossed the diaper bag on the front seat and jammed the car in gear as she saw a large man in a suit turn the corner of her building holding a gun his hand. She took off quickly rummaging in the diaper bag for her phone. She grabbed it and quickly pressed Sherlock's number. Her heart was racing. She wasn't sure where to go.

Sherlock stood in the regal living room of his client with sun streaming through the large estate windows. They were examining what was supposed to be a break-in but Sherlock was highly suspect that this was a smash and grab. His phone vibrated and he looked down. Molly? He wasn't answering. He was working. He made that clear. He sent it to voice mail and continued his examination of the broken crystal that had been on the bookshelf.

Molly exclaimed, "BLOODY HELL!" She couldn't believe he wasn't answering. She was going to kill him and then after she was going to murder him. She called John next.

John's phone vibrated and he instantly picked up worried something was wrong with Rosie, "Molly?" Sherlock turned around hearing John's voice as he answered. He was irritated that John wasn't showing solidarity with him and ignoring the calls. John's face went ashen, his voice became urgent, "Are you okay? Yes, yes of course. Meet us back at the flat. No, I have no idea. Mrs. Hudson is there just sit with her until we get there. We're on our way now" and he signaled for Sherlock to follow as he began to walk.

Sherlock was completely irritated. "Where the hell are we going? I'm not done at the scene here." John firmly and calmly explained, "somebody broke into Molly's apartment and then chased her with a gun. She's terrified and didn't know where to go or who it was. She and Rosie are on there way to Baker Street. We need to meet them." Sherlock didn't say a word he just briskly headed to the front door with the assumption that John was right behind him. They got into the car and he was silent. She had called him first and he hadn't answered. She needed him and he hadn't been there. Sherlock knew he had failed her.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay in chapter. Also, thanks for letting me know that my coding/publishing went all sideways. You guys are the best. I think I fixed the problem.

Molly and Rosie showed up to 221B after taking the long way and making sure nobody was following her. She parked a couple of blocks away and then walked with the pram. John had called ahead to Mrs. Hudson who was eagerly waiting for their arrival. She opened the door and shuffled them in, locking the door behind them. "come on love, come on in. I've made some tea. Ohhh, you are positively shaking." She gently guided them into her kitchen where Molly sat down and traded Rosie for a cup of tea. She realized her hands were shaking when she took the cup. Mrs. Hudson kept fussing about but Molly couldn't hear anything her ears were buzzing and she was feeling light-headed. Molly jumped at the loud sound of Sherlock banging on the front door. "Mrs. Hudson it's Sherlock open the door!" Mrs Hudson ran to open the door. She barely had the door unlocked when Sherlock and John busted through the door and sprinted into the kitchen. Sherlock came to a screeching halt in front of Molly unsure of what to say or do.

Sherlock paced in the kitchen and listened to every detail, stopping to ask her questions, but he was growing increasingly impatient. He finally reached his limit and turned to leave. John trotted after Sherlock. "Where the hell are you going?" Sherlock turned on his heels as he reached the front door, "Well to Molly's flat to look for clues" John walked up close to Sherlock leaning into him and pointing his finger at Sherlock's chest and with a low but firm tone said, "YOU are going to go back in that kitchen and make your girlfriend feel better and secure about the fact that she was almost shot today!" Sherlock was aghast at the command given to him, "My girlfriend? I don't have 'girlfriends' John. I'm not a pre-pubescent 13-year-old boy"

John was as exasperated as Sherlock was impatient "Well, you can call her what you want but that woman needs you right now and unless you want to ruin the only good thing you have going for you I suggest you go fix this situation."

Molly could hear john and Sherlock exchanging words in the hallway. She couldn't tell what they were saying but she was positive that it was about her. She was sitting in the kitchen growing angrier and more hurt. She wanted to be back in her flat. She wanted to be anywhere Sherlock wasn't.

Sherlock walked back into the kitchen grabbed Molly's wrist firmly and started leading her upstairs to his flat. This infuriated Molly that he couldn't even talk to her. "Where the hell are you taking me?" He continued to drag her upstairs and closed his flat door behind them. Molly was done. She was cold and scared and now angry. She spun on her heels and slapped Sherlock firmly across the face. "YOU DIDN'T BLOODY ANSWER YOUR PHONE! AND THEN YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST DRAG ME UP HERE AND LEAVE ME WHEREVER IT IS CONVENIENT? YOU PROMISED ME THAT YOU WOULD BE THERE FOR ME AND YOU WEREN'T!" It was these last words that left Molly vulnerable and in tears. She didn't ask a lot of Sherlock but she was damned if she was going to give up the little bit that she did expect. "YOU ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE WHEN I CALL! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" Molly's shoulders shook as tears streamed down her face.

Sherlock pursed his lips together, took a deep breath and finally after a moment to make sure Molly was finished he responded quietly, "You are right Molly Hooper. I should have answered the phone. I was being selfish right now because I want to follow the trail while it is hot. I've never had to choose between someone and a case. The case has always been the only thing I have had."

Molly had stopped crying and wiped the tears away, "You can be a real arse!" Sherlock smirked slightly, "I never promised that I wouldn't be." Molly had to laugh at this admission. Sherlock rubbed his jaw where there still was a red imprint from Molly's hand, "are you always going to hit me when you're angry with me? Because I might need to look into domestic violence laws." Molly smirked but stayed silent. Sensing his opportunity Sherlock stepped closer and pulled Molly into his chest, "I'm sorry darling. I'm sorry it happened. Unfortunately, as long as you are with me you will be in danger. But you already knew that." He kissed the top of her head and gently guided her back to his bedroom. "Stay here tonight." He pulled out a pajama shirt from his dresser and left it on the bed. "I need to go chase clues while the trail is still hot. Lock the door after me when I leave. I'll call Greg on my way out and have him keep a patrol car out front. Ok?" Molly nodded. She did understand he needed to go. She wanted him to go. She wanted him to do what he was best at. Sherlock hesitated in the door unsure of what to do. She finally turned and said, "GO! Go on. Catch the bad guys. I'll be here." Sherlock smiled, took a couple quick strides, kissed her briskly and then headed out the door. Molly followed and locked the door as instructed. She turned around and took a deep breath in the silence. She slowly meandered around Sherlock's flat taking in all of the little things scattered – a magnifying glass, his violin, books, paper that all added up to Sherlock. Nothing personal – no photos, or trinkets or memorabilia – not that wasn't him. She eventually collapsed into his black chair, closed her eyes and fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: Sorry about the time between chapters. Kids are having birthdays and work and blah, blah, blah - life happens._

Molly woke up with her shirt sleeve wet with drool. The apartment was dark and cold and Molly suddenly felt uncomfortable sitting in Sherlock's chair. She stretched the kinks out of her back, and walked over to the window. She could see the unmarked police car still running across the street. She didn't know where Sherlock was or if he was even safe and the thought made her shiver. She rubbed her arms trying to warm up and decided it would be best to move into Sherlock's bedroom. She had never been in his room. She walked slowly and gingerly afraid of disturbing Sherlock's private sanctuary. She turned down the hall and found an open door that led to a dark room. Molly fumbled for a light switch and flicked it on. One small lamp stood on a shabby nightstand that illuminated a dark, undecorated room that included an unmade King size bed. The sheets were a dark gray with a white fluffy duvet that was uncovered. On the nightstand one empty water glass and a charging cable for his phone. A small stack of books that included a guide on moths, a translation dictionary for Turkish and a history of Venezuelan government. Molly opened the closet to find most of his clothes dry cleaned, pressed and wrapped in plastic. She picked up a white dress shirt that had been crumpled on the floor. It still smelled like Sherlock, a combination of tobacco and evergreen. She peeled off her clothes and slipped on his shirt and then wrapped herself in his bedding and tried to fall asleep.

The hours slowly crept by. Molly couldn't fall back asleep. Her body warmed but her heart was cold. For the first time she was genuinely worried about Sherlock. In her own flat his world seemed far away and something that couldn't touch her but now all of that had changed. She didn't know how long she had been lying there when she heard the front door creak open. She waited with her back to the door until she felt his heavy frame sink into the edge of the bed, his overcoat pressing against her back. She rolled over facing towards his back. He stared down at her, stroking her hair smiling, the lines around his eyes creasing. He looked tired but she felt better knowing he was there. She pressed her face into his warm hand has he pressed it against her face. He took a deep breath and as the air pressed out of his lungs his shoulders sunk down. "When Moriarity was hunting me down he didn't realize how important you were and neither did I." He paused for a moment as if the memory was a happy one that he wanted to hang onto for a bit longer. "But once I realized how important you were to me I decided right then that I needed to hide that connection in order to keep you safe. The only way to keep you safe was to pretend you didn't matter – I had to lie to everybody, including myself. And it worked." With this he smiled and looked at her, as if to punctuate how diabolically successful his plan had been. Molly propped her self up against the wall in anticipation of what she feared was coming. Sherlock sighed heavily and began again, "But all of that has changed. Later this morning my front step will be covered with reporters wanting to know more about the double-agent that was exposed at the MI-6 and recently arrested. If they spot you leaving this flat you will forever be linked to me. There will be no more hiding and you will always be in danger." Molly twisted her fingers in her lap but remained silent. Sherlock delicately held her hand, "This is your last chance Molly. If this is too much you can slip out right now unseen, and go back to your flat and your world. Nobody will ever be the wiser of our connection to each other. I will understand if you make that choice."

It was a tempting offer. Molly could go back to feeling safe and her Fridays being quiet and her phone not ringing. But she would also be going back to being alone. She took a deep breath, "do you love me Sherlock?" She knew this question still made him uncomfortable. These were new emotions that he still wasn't familiar and it always took him back when forced to face them. His smile returned and he squeezed her hands tight, "Yes. I love you." Molly knew then what she needed to do. She squared her shoulders and said, "This is MY choice Sherlock. As soon as you walked into my lab and asked me to pull out corpses for you and to help you fake your death I made my choice. This is our life Sherlock. OUR LIFE and it's dangerous but we will face it together." Sherlock kissed her lips gently, and then whispered, "but you're still a little scared aren't you?" Molly couldn't help it, she swallowed hard and she nodded nervously. Sherlock stood and took off his jacket and then his scarf. He kicked off his shoes and removed his sport coat. As he started working on his shirt buttons he said, "it is one thing to be brave but another to be stupid. So let's not be stupid my darling. I'm going to have a new security system installed at your flat and you will start taking self defense classes. I'm also going to have John teach you how to shoot a pistol." Molly wanted to protest but she was so touched by his desire to protect her that she just nodded her agreement. He was down to his boxers and undershirt by the time he finished speaking. He vanished into the bathroom and left Molly sitting there thinking about her new future. A future that would include her now carrying a firearm. A few minutes later he came out of the bathroom smelling vaguely of peppermint and looking even more tired. Molly scooted to the other side of the bed making room for what Molly assumed was Sherlock's side of the bed. He laid his watch on the night stand and his phone. He then rolled over and pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist. He buried his face into her hair and whispered, "Thank you for staying Molly Hooper."

The morning came quickly and even though Molly was tired she assumed Sherlock was even more tired. He needed to report to the station early in the morning in order to help with reports. There was little time to talk matters over any longer. She put her clothes back on and pulled her hair up into a messy bun. She scrubbed her face and decided to just go with some simple lipstick. When she walked out into the front of the flat she found John waiting for them. He smiled quietly and asked, "feeling okay Molly?" She nervously nodded. "There are a fair number of reporters down front – you ready for that?" She looked at Sherlock and he firmly said, "Yes, WE are ready." And he held out his hand for Molly to take. John nodded his approval and they walked downstairs. The three of them took a deep breath and John opened the door. They were greeted by flashing lights, clicking cameras and shouted questions. Molly lost her breath for a moment and started to feel her eyes go a little crossed when Sherlock squeezed her hand. She looked up at him and could hear only one question, "WHO IS THE WOMAN SHERLOCK? WHO IS SHE?" Sherlock smiled and kissed Molly passionately leaving no doubt as to who she was to him. He firmly led her through the crowd of reporters and into the waiting patrol car. Leaving John to fend for himself.


	10. Chapter 10

Molly returned to work the next day and thankfully spent the day busy writing up reports and doing paperwork. She avoided the news altogether and besides a couple of snide remarks from some friends at the station she pretended that nobody knew about her current personal life. She liked things between her and Sherlock to be private and quiet. She liked that her flat had become an escape from reality and she was worried that the new publicity might ruin it. She had managed to slip in and out of her flat relatively unnoticed – at least she thought she had. She had just collapsed into her desk chair and was about to shut the lab down when a clerk walked in with a large box. "Dr. Hooper this was just delivered for you." Molly had learned to read EVERY label on every package. She didn't want one of Sherlock's surprise packages to slip by her and end up in the wrong hands. This time the package didn't have a shipping label, just a note on the box with her name and the address of the station. She opened up the box to find another cream colored note. She opened it up and read, "Time to make our official debut. Dinner tonight at 7pm. Wear this. Love, SH" There was another box inside that was white with big letters that read "Harrods". She opened the lid to find a beautiful Gucci dress. It was sleeveless, fitted at her waist and flared out with beautiful small white flowers embroidered throughout the dress – you almost couldn't see them but they were delicate and lovely. The dress was short, falling just above Molly's knees. She blushed just thinking about wearing it and now she would have to wear it in public with the most well-known detective in London. The thought of it made her want to vomit. She picked up her phone and texted Sherlock, "I can't go. I'm busy." Within seconds her phone vibrated a response, "You are not busy. You are scared. You are going." Molly was furious that he always knew her better than she knew herself. It was aggravating to not have any surprises. She closed the lab and gathered up her things including the box. She texted one more time, "Not tonight. Can't we just order in?" Again, the quick reply, "No. I will be at your flat at 6:30" She let out a loud exasperated groan and left the lab.

Molly showered and thought about how her life was about to change. A sketchy picture from his flat was one thing but a very public date after a sketchy photo was going to change things in a way she could no longer deny. She was the girlfriend of Sherlock Holmes – famous London detective. When she agreed to stay at Sherlock's flat she was thinking more about her safety and less about the paparazzi but now she was realizing that she had considered the wrong thing when making that decision. Sherlock's girlfriend – that alone was a fact that she hadn't even begun to fathom and thinking about it made her smile and her heart flutter just a little.

By the time Sherlock was knocking on her door she was in the dress, hair pulled over to one side in a delicate braid and she had no appetite. She felt exposed everywhere even though the sweetheart neckline exposed little and the length, although short, was hardly scandalous. She opened the door and Sherlock assessed her like he was looking at a dead body. She could tell he viewed this dinner as a "game", armor in place and ready to face the challenge. Molly wasn't feeling so confident.

He stepped in continuing to size her up and walk around her as if looking at prey. Finally, he met her eyes and said, "Yes. Well, that will do. Are you ready?" Molly was definitely NOT ready. She couldn't be less ready if she tried. Sherlock nodded and headed to the door. He turned around in order to shoo her out when he finally recognized the look on her face. He sighed deeply and walked back into the flat and closed the door behind him. "You are uncomfortable in the dress. You don't want to be seen in public. You are worried about what people will write or say but darling it must be done. I'd rather they take pictures and write their gossip pieces on our terms then stalk you outside of your flat." Just once she wished he would let her express her own feelings. "But won't they stalk me anyways?" At this point Sherlock was losing patience with what he felt was her absurd denseness, "yes, but then you become old news not new news. Right now you are "New" and like a shiny object you must be examined. We are giving them a chance to examine you and then John will add you to the blog and then you will be old news and boring. Now, can we please leave?" He stomped his foot for emphasis and swung open the door. Molly didn't feel a bit better but she understood what he was saying. This was a game and they needed to play it – at least for a bit. She ran to her closet and grabbed a red shawl with fringe. She needed some armor too. As she breezed past Sherlock he grunted his approval at the addition.

They walked into The Ledbury a unified front ready for battle. The cameras had already been fluttering as they walked in and Molly was starting to feel a bit more confident. She could do this. Sherlock gently rested his hand at the small of her back letting her know that she was not facing this room full of elegance alone. The young hostess who was wearing heels higher than Molly's and seemed far more comfortable in them walked them to a small table in the center of the restaurant. Sherlock breezily ordered wine as if he did this everyday. Molly could feel every set of eyes bearing down on her and whether true or not she felt as if everybody was whispering about them. She swallowed hard and stared at the menu reading nothing. It was just a dinner. A nice dinner. She had been to many nice dinners with lots of blokes this wasn't any different. She stared hard at the menu willing the words to un-jumble themselves but after what felt like an hour she finally gave up and firmly laid the menu down, knocking over the glass of red wine that apparently had been poured while she was staring. The glass made a loud clank as it doused the table and the floor below with red liquid. Molly made a loud "OH!" and jumped up from the table, dropping her shawl and knocking over the water glass in the process. The room seemed to fall silent and all Molly could hear was the roaring of her pulse in her ears. Why did she think she deserved this? Why did she think it would be okay? She was a simple, clumsy girl and she wasn't supposed to be with somebody like Sherlock. She could feel the tears welling up behind her eyes and before Sherlock could say a word she ran for the front door. She jumped into the first cab available and escaped to her flat – leaving Sherlock behind alone.


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: I know, you hate me. It has taken me an inordinate amount of time to finish this story. I totally understand your anger and frustration. I am so sorry. I have no excuse except the business of life._

By the time Molly returned to her flat her face was puffy with tears and she felt like an awkward mess in the fancy dress. Nothing felt right. She took the dress off and carefully hung it up. She then washed all the make-up off that she had taken so long to properly put on and collapsed into her bed intent on hiding from the world for as long as she could. Sherlock had called several times but she didn't want to talk to him. He was just a reminder of what a fool she was. The tears were just starting to subside when she heard something at her bedroom window. She lifted her head to make sure she was hearing right and then it came again, a light tapping on the window. She got up and pushed back the delicate muted yellow drapes to discover Sherlock crouched on the fire escape. "Open the window Molly." He said firmly.

Molly was so startled she instantly opened the window and let Sherlock climb in. "Bloody hell Sherlock what are you doing?!" He climbed into the bedroom and straightened out his coat. "I was avoiding the paparazzi at the front of your flat. We definitely will be featured in tomorrow's gossip columns, just not in the way I intended. I just didn't want to add to that by them seeing me come to your flat." This launched Molly into tears again and she turned away from Sherlock so he couldn't see. Sherlock took off his coat and scarf, laying them over the back of the soft over stuffed chair that stood in the corner of Molly's bedroom. He then took the seat and pressed his fingers together as if he was about to solve a case. "Molly Hooper you are being absurd. Now stop crying and sit down." She turned on her heels, "I'm being absurd? You are the one that insisted we go on some ridiculous press tour of a dinner. That isn't me Sherlock!" And she sat down on the edge of her bed, arms crossed against her chest defiant. She sighed softly and then proceeded in almost a whisper, "This isn't a good idea Sherlock." And she gestured between the two of them.

Sherlock didn't even flinch. "Molly, do you know why I come here? Why I'm even trying to make this relationship work?" Molly shook her head silently. Sherlock stood up and put his hands in his pant's pockets. "I'm the smartest person I know. Smarter than even Mycroft, although he'll never admit it. I don't understand the need for social niceties and I find small talk and the foundation on which relationships built to be tedious and contrite. I realized by age 16, after several girls had slapped me in the face, that I was not a person for whom relationships would be successful. I am unlovable." Sherlock said this so matter of fact that Molly didn't even try to argue with him. Although the shock of somebody thinking they are unlovable seemed surprising to Molly. At this point Sherlock stood up and started pacing in Molly's room. "When we, Mycroft, John and I, were in Eurus' madhouse of fun, Mycroft turned the coffin lid over and the only thing it said was, "I love you" – it was obvious that Eurus was looking to bury somebody who loved me." Sherlock raised his eyebrows to stress this last point. "John and Mycroft were incapable of thinking of a single person who might fit that description," and at this Sherlock kneeled down in front of Molly as she sat on the edge of the bed so he could look into her eyes, "I knew instantly who it was, because there is only one person who has the ability to love a high-functioning sociopath." And at this he leaned up and kissed her on the forehead. He leaned back on his heels and looked at Molly waiting on a response.

Molly's desire to fight had waned. She no longer wanted to push Sherlock away. "I'm sorry about tonight. I'm sorry I ruined your plan." Sherlock smirked, "You think I care about what the press write?" Molly smiled already knowing the answer. "You are the last chance I have at being connected with this world darling. Without you I'll end up like Eurus." Sherlock seemed equal parts desperate and confused. Unsure of what to do with these new feelings. Molly couldn't help but to reach out and press her hand gently across his cheek. She spent most of her time feeling uncomfortably vulnerable around Sherlock but she was beginning to realize that he was vulnerable too; this relationship was a risk for both of them. Without thinking for another moment Molly threw her arms around Sherlock and tackled him to the ground kissing him and laughing at the same time. "I'm such a klutz! Did you see me at that dinner?" Sherlock smiled, "yes darling, but you are MY klutz"

They spent the remainder of the evening watching "The Bachelor" and eating cold pizza that Molly had leftover in her fridge. Although it wasn't the fancy romantic date Sherlock had planned it was just perfect for Molly. As the moon rose and the earlier disaster faded into the past Sherlock turned off the television and stood up, offering his hand to Molly. He pulled her up off the couch and held her tight around the waist nuzzling her neck. "At some point you really will have to let me take you out on a proper date. I won't stand for keeping you hidden up in your flat like some sort of treasure that is never meant to be seen. I have this completely illogical desire to show you off." Molly groaned a little, "oh please don't show me off. Can't we just go to pubs, and order Thai food forever and ever?" Sherlock rocked her back and forth in his arms taking in the way she smelled, a little bit like the lab mixed with the vanilla perfume he had bought her. "forever and ever feels like an awful long time to eat Thai food." Molly just wanted to stay there in his arms all night – every night. She was contemplating what the future might look like with Sherlock in it when suddenly there was a firm, loud knock on her door. Sherlock took two long strides across the floor and looked through the peephole. There stood John, looking anxious and serious. Sherlock opened the door and gestured for him to enter. John met Molly's eyes and offered a sheepish smile, "sorry to ruin your evening." Molly shrugged, "it's okay. I already managed to do that." And shot a childish smirk at Sherlock who returned her look with a smirk of his own. "Mycroft said you weren't answering your phone so I told him I would run over here and grab you. We've got to go Sherlock, there has been a new tape received from Moriarity, or somebody claiming to be Moriarity" Sherlock quickly ran back to the bedroom to grab his jacket and scarf and returned ready for action. He kissed Molly quickly, "Sorry Love. Lock the doors when I leave and keep your phone close by in case I need you." This is the way it would always be – the job, the late hours, the long absences, punctuated by short periods of romance. She offered him a weak smile and a nod of agreement. He was half-way out the door when he hollered back, "I love you Molly Hooper!" She smiled knowingly and locked the door securely.


End file.
